545. 7s. M. Anonymous. Dirge.

1 Clay to clay, and dust to dust!
Let them mingle -- for they must!
Give to earth the earthly clod,
For the spirit's fled to God.

2 Never more shall midnight's damp
Darken round this mortal lamp;
Never more shall noon-day's glance
Search this mortal countenance.

3 Deep the pit, and cold the bed,
Where the spoils of death are laid;
Stiff the curtains, chill the gloom,
Of man's melancholy tomb.

4 Look aloft! The spirit's risen --
Death cannot the soul imprison;
'Tis in heaven that spirits dwell,
Glorious, though invisible.